In the tiger's lair

by Leo E. Miller

“This is just going to be a joy ride around the field. Don’t do or touch anything; sit as comfortably as you can and look around; watch the ground and the air and the other ships.”

So saying he helped Ted into his place and showed him how to adjust the buckle of his safety-belt across his lap. “You will hardly ever need the belt,” he said, “but it is just as well to get into the habit of fastening it.”

Then he climbed into the forward cockpit and opened and closed the throttle a number of times, while the motor roared and slowed down alternately. At a signal to the crew chief, the men removed the blocks from under the wheels, and taking hold of the lower wings swung the ship around until it faced the flying-field, which was into the wind.

An instant later, with an increasing roar, the machine was tearing across the ground at a terrific speed. Ted looked down over the edges of the cockpit, and saw the grass rushing backward in a blurred, green streak. A frightful wind struck his face, cutting off his breath and making his eyes water. He ducked his head behind the little celluloid wind-shield to adjust his goggles more snugly, and when he looked again they had left the ground. He closed his eyes for a moment; there was no sensation of motion whatever; they seemed to be standing stock-still, like a kite at the end of a string, facing a cyclone of wind, but the thunder of the engine was deafening.

After climbing a thousand feet, they made a number of circuits of the field. Then Stanley throttled the motor and dipping the ship down at a steep angle, began the glide back to the landing-place. The propeller moved so slowly that the blades could easily be distinguished, and the wind shrieked through the wires with a shrill wail. They levelled off at a few feet above the ground, and after skimming along a short distance, touched so gently that there was scarcely any shock; after that they slowed down and rolled up to the dead-line from which they had started.

The course of instruction continued daily, and under Stanley’s capable guidance Ted learned rapidly. When he had had six hours in the air he could fly the ship in a manner satisfactory to his teacher; so Stanley took it upon himself to include a few of the more commonly used stunts in the course. For this purpose, however, they always went some distance from the field, where they were safe from the observation from below of the officers in charge.

“I am going to show you a new one to-day,” Stanley said one afternoon, as they were taking their places for the flight. “Be doubly sure the belt is fastened; you will need it for once.”

“I can stand anything you can,” Ted replied. “Go as far as you like.”

Soon they were leaving the field behind, mounting as they soared into the distance. The aneroid needle pointed to two thousand, then three, four, five, and finally six thousand feet. Ted had never been so high before in the plane, and the earth below seemed new and strange. The patches of woods looked like clusters of dark, green dots, and the fields reminded him of the squares of a checker-board. Banks of white, fluffy clouds rolled past, their upper edges tinted with glowing silver by the brilliant sunlight.

Stanley shut down the engine. “Is everything all right?” he called back.